


something about us

by werisingsun



Series: a song for you and me (music school aus) [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, and mentions of porn and jerking off, frottage for like 2 seconds, music school/conservatory students ateez
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26816047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werisingsun/pseuds/werisingsun
Summary: San’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. Did you meet someone?”“Shut up,” Mingi pouts, turning his head away where it’s still in San’s lap. “It’s nothing.”“Suuure it is.” San is grinning stupidly now, and Mingi would wipe it off his face if he didn’t fear for his physical well-being.Prompt:An au wherein Person A tries to woo his crush by constantly sending him mixtapes or links to a new Spotify playlist he enjoys. One day he accidentally and also unknowingly sends his crush a link to a porn video he has been enjoying recently.When there is a knock at his door late at night he is more than surprised to be met with his crush asking if he meant it when he send him that link.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Song Mingi
Series: a song for you and me (music school aus) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2188272
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27
Collections: RARETEEZ





	something about us

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [AteezRarePairFest2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/AteezRarePairFest2020) collection. 



Mingi has no true friends.

Well, that statement might be a _tiny_ bit overdramatic, but right now, it feels like the truth. Mingi has never known a betrayal as deep as this.

San, his so-called “best friend”, has abandoned him. On the first day of ballet class.

“ _Saaan_ , you said we were gonna do this together,” Mingi whines into his phone, trying to keep his voice down so that the students filtering into the dance studio can’t hear how pathetic he sounds. “I only signed up because I thought I wasn’t gonna be alone.”

San’s eyeroll is practically audible through the speaker. “Stop being a baby,” he chides. “I’ll be there next week, I told you I just have to help Yunho with something today and I can’t make it.”

“Let me guess, that ‘something’ has to do with Yunho’s dick,” Mingi grumbles, then sniffles drily. “I can’t believe you would abandon me like this for some dick.”

“ _No,_ ” San hisses. “We’re actually working on stuff for a class, thanks. And even if it was just a dick appointment, Yunho isn’t just ‘ _some dick’_.”

“Whatever,” Mingi pouts. “But you’re buying me a burrito when I see you later.”

San sighs, much longer and louder than is called for in Mingi’s humble opinion. “Fine. Now go get ready for class, you’ll live without me.”

Mingi whines just a tiny bit more about how he can’t survive without his “ _emotional support Sannie”_ before reluctantly hanging up. He’ll live, sure, but he doesn’t have to be happy about it.

After toeing off his sneakers he cautiously steps into the studio and takes in the scene. There’s a few people dressed similarly to himself in casual workout clothes, so that’s a good sign. Then he looks towards the center of the room and promptly loses all confidence when he sees the group of professional-looking dancers, decked out in fancy dance gear and _actual ballet shoes_ , showing off their intimidating levels of flexibility by folding themselves in half further than should be humanly possible. 

Mingi gulps, finally about to make a run for it, when the professor enters the studio and shuts the door, cutting off his only route of escape. 

“Alright, class!” the professor calls, clapping his hands to get their attention. “Let’s start today by introducing ourselves. Everyone gather in the center of the room, please.”

Mingi follows the crowd as they migrate away from the walls, sitting towards the outskirts of the group. The professor introduces himself, and Mingi zones out as he reads off the attendance list, letting his gaze sweep over his classmates. 

Just like he had observed before, there’s a good mix of apparent newbies, like himself, and more seasoned looking students. His gaze lands on one student with obnoxiously bright blonde hair, sporting skin-tight leggings and a tank top that show off his toned arms and legs. Definitely a dancer. Mingi’s eyes travel up to his face and- oh shit. He’s pretty too. Mingi is weak for pretty men. 

Just his luck, the pretty boy is introducing himself next. 

“I’m Wooyoung! If anyone new needs help, feel free to ask! ” he chirps, waving with both hands. “I don’t bite,” he adds with a laugh. 

_I wish he would,_ Mingi thinks before he can reign in his monkey brain. 

Well, if San is going to flake on him to get some action, he might as well try his luck too. Did he mention he’s weak for pretty men?

“Mingi Song?”

So wrapped up in his thoughts, Mingi didn’t notice the professor had gotten to his name in the attendance list. 

“Hi, uh, yeah, that’s me,” he stutters, cringing at his own awkwardness. “I’m here.”

Wow, great first impression. Hopefully the cute boy didn’t notice. He spares a look at him, but he’s busy talking in an animated whisper to his friend, so he probably didn’t pay any mind to Mingi. He’ll take that. 

Once attendance is done, they move to barre, where Mingi and a handful of the class fumble along to the combos that the professor patiently demonstrates. Mingi’s eyes keep straying over to Wooyoung on the barre over, who is very obviously breezing through this, and whose choice of legwear is making it significantly harder to focus on counting beats.

They turn around to do the other leg, and halfway through the combination Mingi nearly dies of a heart attack when someone taps his shoulder.

It’s Wooyoung. “Sorry!” he stage-whispers apologetically. “Didn’t mean to scare you, I just noticed you were having some trouble with the footwork.”

Mingi wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Of course Wooyoung notices him only because of how much he _sucks_. He hates ballet. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m kinda new to this,” he whispers back, struggling to tuck one foot behind the other. 

Wooyoung laughs gently. “Careful, you’ll hurt yourself like that. Focus more on keeping your legs straight than turning your feet out for now, ok?”

Mingi adjusts accordingly and, low and behold, it feels way better. “Thanks,” he says meekly. 

“No problem, uh…”

“I’m Mingi.”

“No problem, Mingi!” Wooyoung smiles. “I’m Wooyoung, you can ask me any time you need help.” He returns to his spot on the barre, picking right up in the middle of the combo as easy as breathing.

So he’s gorgeous _and_ talented _and_ kind. Yeah, Mingi is fucked.

* * *

“What do you _mean_ you dropped the class?”

Forget last week, _this_ is the top betrayal of Mingi’s life. 

“I’m sorry, I meant to tell you but I completely forgot about it until just now.” San looks genuinely remorseful, but Mingi still whines loudly and throws himself into San’s lap, dramatics dialed up to ten. 

“The week to drop classes is already over! Now I have to do this whole semester without you!” he wails, clinging to San’s waist, who strokes his hair placatingly. 

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he soothes, “Haven’t you met anyone nice?”

“I mean, yeah,” he says slowly. His cheeks heat up when he thinks of Wooyoung. 

San’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. Did you _meet_ someone?”

“Shut up,” Mingi pouts, turning his head away where it’s still in San’s lap. “It’s nothing.”

“Suuure it is.” San is grinning stupidly now, and Mingi would wipe it off his face if he didn’t fear for his physical well-being.

“Fine, there is someone. But we literally just met, I just think he’s cute.” Mingi relents, covering his face with both hands so that he doesn’t have to see San’s delighted, shit-eating grin get even bigger.

“What’s his name?”

Mingi parts his fingers to peek at San suspiciously. “Why? What do you need to know for?”

“Well, I might know him if he goes to the Conservatory. I could help you.”

Mingi squints. “I don’t know if I want your help,” he says, “but his name is Wooyoung. Jung Wooyoung, I think.”

San blinks. “Wooyoung? Is he blonde, kinda short, talks very loudly all the time for no reason?”

“Uh, I dunno about that last part, but yeah, that sounds like the same Wooyoung. Do you actually know him?”

“Do I know him?” San laughs disbelievingly. “He’s been my friend since highschool. We went to the same performing arts school back in Korea.”

“Why haven’t I heard of him before?” Mingi’s not sure if he’s glad that San knows Wooyoung yet because, on one hand, he could potentially get helpful info for asking him on a date, but on the other San knowing too much is never usually a good thing. It’s how he ended up having to live through the majority of second semester with his then crush Jongho knowing that Mingi had drunk-cried about having his skull smashed like a melon between Jongho’s thighs, even though they had only ever talked during their morning art history lecture. Embarrassing. 

“Well, Wooyoung’s pretty busy these days, and since our schedules don’t overlap a lot we haven’t gotten to see each other a ton. But I can give you advice about how to ask him out, if you want.”

Mingi hums, considering. “I’ll get back to you about that. I don’t wanna scare him off just yet by knowing random trivia about him after two days.”

“Fair enough,” San laughs. “But I’m here whenever you need.”

“No you’re not,” Mingi says, suddenly remembering his tantrum from a minute ago. “I’m still mad at you for leaving me to suffer through ballet alone.”

* * *

As soon as the professor dismisses them, Mingi is on the floor, water bottle in one hand, phone in the other so he can desperately gulp water while simultaneously texting San to bitch about the hellish floorwork they had been put through a few minutes ago. 

“Would you mind helping me stretch?”

Mingi looks up, and gracefully chokes on his mouthful of water when he catches sight of Wooyoung standing over him, the sheen of sweat all over his body reflecting the shitty studio lights in a way that makes him appear almost glowing. 

“Yeah, no problem,” he says, very casually, as he scrambles to his feet. 

“Great, thank you so much!” Wooyoung chirps. “My friend usually helps me but he had to leave early for his next class today.” He leads Mingi to an empty spot on the floor before dropping down and spreading his legs. “Sit there,” he says, pointing to the floor in front of himself.

Mingi joins him on the floor, swallowing quietly when his new vantage point grants him a view of _all_ of Wooyoung’s pretty, muscular legs. He spreads his legs as much as he can (which is not much), and presses the arches of his feet to Wooyoung’s ankles after he’s directed to do so. 

“Sorry, I’m not very flexible,” he says sheepishly. “I only signed up for this class this semester because I wanted to try out some kind of dance, I was not expecting there to be professionals here too.”

Wooyoung giggles, a silvery, high-pitched sound that makes Mingi’s heart leap in his chest, and leans forward to grab Mingi’s hands, something else that makes his heartbeat syncopate despite it being just to help him stretch forward. 

“That’s ok, I just needed another body, and your legs are long enough to make up for it,” he says. “But the only professional in this class is the professor, no one else is a dance major here.”

“Really? I thought you were a dance major, you’re so good,” Mingi says, letting Wooyoung use his arms as leverage to gently pull himself forwards.

Wooyoung laughs again, but it’s not mean-spirited. “No, I’m a musical theater major. So, I guess I have to dance for a living too, but I’m nowhere near a professional ballet dancer. I’m flattered you think so highly of me, though! What about you?” He lets go of Mingi’s hands (sadly) and straightens back up, shaking his legs out before bringing his feet together and tucking them towards his body. “What’s your major, I mean.”

Mingi follows his lead, though his knees are significantly higher off the ground than Wooyoung after bending them. “Oh, I’m a songwriting major.”

“That’s so cool!” Wooyoung gushes, and Mingi has to will down the pleased flush that threatens to color his ears from the praise. “What kind of songs have you written?”

“I haven’t done much yet,” he says, scratching the back of his neck self-consciously. “I just write about whatever inspires me, and for most of highschool that was like, depressing shit.”

Wooyoung waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t be so shy about that, it’s amazing that you can even write lyrics. I’ve tried to do that before but everything that I come up with seems so pretentious and just, not _me_ , that I can’t take myself seriously.” he says with a laugh. “Do you have a SoundCloud or something where I can listen to some of your music?”

Once again, Mingi has to remind himself to be cool and not wiggle happily like a child when Wooyoung compliments him. “I don’t have anything posted anywhere, but I can send you a few recordings of stuff I’ve been working on, if you want. My friend Hongjoong produces for me, and we’re working on a song right now that will hopefully be out soon.” 

“Oh my god, I would love to hear some,” Wooyoung says, shifting onto his knees and bringing one leg in front of him. “Give me your number before you leave so you can text it to me!”

“Yeah, of course!” Mingi replies, hoping he doesn’t sound too eager. 

They finish stretching, Wooyoung with ease and Mingi with a little (a lot) more difficulty, then when they go to grab their bags Wooyoung gives Mingi his phone to put his number in.

“I’ll text you in a bit!” Wooyoung says when they part ways outside the dance studio. “See you next week!”

True to his word, as soon as Mingi gets back to his dorm, his phone dings with a text notification.

**Maybe: Wooyoung**

_hey it’s wooyoung :)_

Smiling giddily, he pulls up a track that he finished a while ago, one he’s proud of, and sends it to Wooyoung before adding his number to his contacts.

**Me**

_here ya go! lmk what u think_

He sets his phone face down, pulls out his laptop, and tries not to wait too hard for a response even though his leg is bouncing in anticipation.

A couple minutes later, his phone dings again.

**Wooyoung**

_wow!!!_

_that was sooo good!!!_

_you gotta send me more of your stuff now_

Mingi pumps his fist to himself. Nice. Cute boy likes his music. All aboard the Homo Train, next stop, Holding-Hands Town.

He texts Wooyoung back a very chill, very suave _hell yeah of course i’ll send you some more!_ before opening up a track he’s been working on, extra inspired to write more.

* * *

Over the next couple weeks, they get into a routine. Mingi will send him a track he’s been working on or has finished, and Wooyoung will respond with compliments that make Mingi kick his feet like a schoolgirl. Sometimes, they’ll extend into actual conversations about their classes or something that had happened that day, and when they see each other in class, Wooyoung greets him enthusiastically and Mingi responds with red cheeks and a grin. 

He starts getting distracted thinking about Wooyoung or waiting for his texts, which of course San teases him endlessly for once he notices. He tells San to fuck off, thanks. 

(Maybe Wooyoung’s thighs begin to feature heavily in his nightly jerk-off sessions.)

“Hey, what building do you live in?” Wooyoung asks one day as they stretch together, something else that’s become a regular occurrence since that first time. 

“I live in 220, why?”

“Oh that’s so funny, I live there too! I wonder why I haven’t seen you around before?”

“I live on the second floor, and I usually get back pretty late these days because I use the studios late at night to record.”

“Ah, that’s probably it,” Wooyoung laughs. “Well, maybe one of these days we’ll bump into each other.” 

* * *

San doesn’t react at all when Mingi _thunks_ his head down on the library table in front of his laptop. After a few beats of silence, Mingi lifts his head to peer up at him. 

“Aren’t you gonna ask what’s wrong?” he whines.

San just sighs, still tapping away at his keyboard. “Let me guess. Wooyoung?”

“Yeah,” Mingi says forlornly, resuming his facedown position. “I’m so gay.”

“We knew this,” San points out, finally turning away from his screen. “What happened now.”

Mingi explains his predicament, which, judging by his non-committal responses, seems like not so big of a problem to San. 

“You need to help me Sannie,” he cries into the vinyl table coating. “I’m going to _die_ from being gay.”

“First of all, I don’t _need_ to do anything, but I will because I love and cherish you,” San sniffs. “Secondly, you’re literally fine. Wooyoung is gay as fuck, if you didn’t notice, he’s probably just as into you if he’s talking to you so much.”

“You think so?” Mingi lifts his head hopefully, then droops back down with his next thought. “But what if he just wants to be friends? I mean, you’re pretty gay too, but you aren’t into me, and we talk all the time.”

San makes a face that makes Mingi whine indignantly. “That’s because we were roommates freshman year, and I know more about you as a human than allows me to be romantically attracted to you at this point.”

“Hey!”

“But you’re a catch, Mingi, you’re tall, and buff, and talented, and relatively hygienic-”

“ _Hey_!”

“-and you’re nice and respectful. So there’s no reason he _wouldn’t_ be into you.”

Mingi aims a few gentle kicks at San’s shins under the table in retaliation for the jabs. “Thanks, I guess. So what should I do?”

“Just ask him out. Wooyoung isn’t good with subtlety, and he’s not gonna make the first move, if he’s the same as he was in high school.”

Mingi chews his bottom lip nervously. “How?”

“Just invite him to get coffee or something. Something casual.”

“I can do that,” Mingi says determinedly, trying to convict himself. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

“Great, awesome, now go be a gay mess somewhere else so I can finish this assignment,” San says, tucking his legs back to avoid the kicks Mingi aims at his shins again. 

* * *

Mingi shuffles nervously as he waits for Wooyoung to pack his bag after class.

“Hey, Wooyoung,” he clears his throat and stubbornly ignores the way his palms start sweating when Wooyoung looks up at him expectantly. “I was wondering if you wanted to maybe grab some coffee after this? Before your next class?”

Wooyoung's face pulls into a pronounced frown. “Aw, I’m sorry, I have class right after this so I have to head over now. Maybe some other time?”

“Oh, yeah, no problem!” _That’s not a no_ , Mingi reminds himself, swallowing the lump of disappointment that forms in his throat. “What day works for you?”

Wooyoung hums in though. “Tomorrow should be fine if you’re free in the morning? I only have afternoon classes.”

“Yeah, I’m totally free tomorrow!” Mingi says, perking up. “Where should we meet?”

“I can meet you at your room since I live on the floor above you! How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect,” Mingi says, internally vibrating with excitement. “I’ll text you my room number.”

* * *

Mingi saves his file and stretches in his chair. “God, I’m gonna sleep so well tonight,” he groans, and Hongjoong hums in agreement. They’d been in the studio for hours now, and it’s well into the early hours of the morning by this point. Blessedly, Mingi doesn’t have any classes tomorrow, so he can sleep in to his heart’s content. 

“Wanna call it a night? I might stay here for a little more to finish mixing but you should go sleep now.” Hongjoong says, looking up from his computer briefly. Mingi nods, already packing up.

“See you tomorrow, hyung, don’t stay up too late or it’ll stunt your growth,” he teases, laughing at the glare Hongjoong directs at him on his way out the door. 

Back in his dorm room, he shuffles around getting ready to sleep, deciding to skip washing his face because his bed seems much more enticing at the moment. Once securely tucked under his comforter, he completes his nightly routine by sending Wooyoung the link to one of Hongjoong’s tracks that he’d featured on recently, and then he can’t keep his eyes open anymore. 

Mingi is in the middle of a pleasant dream involving some puppies and chocolate chip cookies from the caf when his phone _ding_ s loudly with a text message notification, right next to his ear.

“Whadafug,” he mumbles, groping blindly under his pillow until he finds the infernal device that is ruining his beauty rest, wondering who the hell was texting him at this ungodly hour of the morning. He squints at the screen until his eyes adjust, making a noise of confusion when he reads the message on his lock screen.

**Wooyoung**

_hey did u mean to send this lol_

What had he sent that Wooyoung wasn’t expecting? He remembers sending something, right before he fell asleep. Maybe Wooyoung was confused because it wasn’t Mingi’s Soundcloud account.

Once he unlocks his phone to check his previous message, he’s suddenly very awake.

“Shit.” 

Shit. _Shitshitshit._

Mingi stares at his phone screen, desperately hoping that he’s still dreaming or something and that this hadn’t actually happened. He closes his eyes, then slowly opens them again.

Nope, this was not happening. No way did he accidentally send a _porn link_ to the guy he’s been desperately crushing on for the past two months. Not to mention, said porn video featured two men, one of whom was tall and broad, not unlike Mingi himself, and the other small but muscular, with a striking, very-totally-coincidental resemblance to Wooyoung, who also happened to be said crush. 

How had this even happened? Why did he have that link copied in the first place? Mingi curses his stupid sleep deprived brain and clumsy fingers, frantically typing out an apology for accidentally harassing the prettiest boy he’s ever known, when he hears a knock on the door of his dorm. 

“One sec!” he yells, rolling out of his bed, fingers still flying over the keyboard, typing and backspacing as he scrambles for an excuse.

He opens the door and almost immediately slams it back shut when he’s greeted by Wooyoung, hair ruffled out of it’s normally sleek appearance, face puffy. He’s only stopped by the part of his brain urging him to be a rational adult and just apologize before he makes things worse.

“Did you really mean to send that?”

Mingi almost drops to his knees to beg for forgiveness, but then he realizes that Wooyoung doesn’t sound angry, like you should when some weirdo is sending you porn a) that they definitely jacked off to and b) where one of the pornstars looks way too much like yourself. Instead, he sounds...shy?

“Uh…” Mingi says intelligently, the way he often is around Wooyoung, mouth gaping like a fish as he tries to figure out the right thing to say. 

“Oh, um, I guess not then.” Wooyoung says, suddenly looking embarrassed. “Sorry for waking you up. Forget this happened.” He turns to walk back down the hallway, but Mingi comes to his senses and grabs his wrist before he can move.

“Wait,” Mingi’s still sleep-addled brain is working overtime. Wooyoung isn’t mad that Mingi sent him porn unprompted. Wooyoung came to his room in the middle of the night after Mingi sent him porn. Wooyoung...wants him?

“I...I did send it on purpose,” Mingi lies, hoping it’s not too obvious. “That probably wasn’t the best way to go about this but...if you’re down…”

Wooyoung is already pushing him back into Mingi’s dorm. “Oh, thank god, I thought I was going to have to start wearing a sign on my chest that said I was into you before you made a move.”

Mingi is suddenly extra thankful for his single room. He shuts the door behind them and immediately Wooyoung is pressing him up against it, leaning up to catch his lips in a heated kiss. Mingi licks into Wooyoung’s mouth eagerly, hands coming down to cup the ass he’s been yearning after for two very long months.

“Wait,” Mingi gasps once they break for air. “But if you knew I was into you, and you were into me too, why didn’t _you_ say anything?”

Wooyoung pouts up at him, fingers clutching at Mingi’s threadbare sleep shirt. “Well, that’s no fun. I like when people chase after me.”

Mingi makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat when Wooyoung slowly rolls his hips against his own. “What if I had just never said anything?” he manages.

“Then I probably would have found someone else to fuck me,” Wooyoung shrugs, tugging Mingi down to kiss him again. 

Oh.

Mingi feels his heart drop to his shoes, suddenly feeling his skin crawl where Wooyoung is touching him. He turns his head to the side, avoiding Wooyoung lips, and gently pushes him off. “I see,” he mumbles, sidestepping around Wooyoung away from the door, who is looking at him with an unreadable facial expression. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Wooyoung replies, quietly. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

Mingi shrugs awkwardly, turning away so that he can hide his residual hard-on. “It’s not your fault, I wasn’t very upfront about it.”

“I’ll go, then,” Wooyoung murmurs, brushing off his clothes to get rid of invisible wrinkles. “See you in class.”

“Yeah, see you.”

Mingi doesn’t sleep well that night. 

* * *

After a week of moping, San puts his foot down.

Mingi nearly chokes on his breakfast of strawberry-banana smoothie when San grabs him and starts dragging him out of the caf. 

“Alright, I’ve had enough, you’re talking to Wooyoung.”

“Sannie, wha- where are you taking me? Why? _Yunho_ , help me!” Mingi whines once he clears the fruity windpipe blockage. He tugs at the iron grip San has on his wrist futility and looks helplessly to Yunho, who is trailing behind them. Yunho just shrugs at him and mouths an apology.

“I made Wooyoung tell me everything, since you were too busy being a sad piece of shit to talk to any of your friends,” San says, leading them up the stairs towards the practice rooms. “And then told him he’s being a massive, emotionally-stunted idiot. Because that’s what he is.”

“He told you?” Mingi wants to crawl into a hole and rot, both at the prospect of having to face Wooyoung after being rejected hard, and also because he now knows that _San_ knows (and probably Yunho as well, by proxy) what kind of porn he watches. Embarrassing. Also, he doesn’t want or need to hear the gruesome details of _why_ and _how much_ Wooyoung doesn’t like him like that. He’d rather just avoid him at all costs and live the rest of his life with this gaping hole in his heart. It’s fine, honestly. 

San stops abruptly in front of a practice room, and Mingi narrowly avoids bowling him over with his momentum. “Yeah, but Wooyoung’s fucking stupid when it comes to feelings, like I said, and- anyways, I’ll let you hear it from him.” He knocks loudly on the window of the practice room door. “Wooyoung! Someone’s here to talk to you, so open up.”

Mingi does _not_ squeak and try to hide behind San’s significantly smaller frame when Wooyoung pokes his head out. San just rolls his eyes and pushes Mingi in front of him. “C’mon Yunho, let’s leave these two to figure their shit out.” He gives them both a threatening look before walking off, Yunho trailing behind him like an obedient dog.

“Uh…”

“Hi,” Mingi scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. The last time they talked, they had sucked face, and then Wooyoung had shot him in the heart (metaphorically). Wooyoung’s face looks as red as Mingi’s feels, at least, which is slight consolation. 

“Let’s not talk out here,” Wooyoung says finally, opening the door fully and stepping aside so that Mingi can join him in the practice room. It’s a little cramped for Mingi’s taste, their knees nearly touching when they sit down on opposite walls. There’s some sheet music scattered along the top of the ancient upright piano that takes up the rest of the space, so evidently Wooyoung had really been practicing, not just fucking around in here. Mingi distantly wonders how San knew where to find him. A few more beats of horrible, awkward silence pass. 

“I-” 

“Can we just-” 

They start speaking simultaneously, then stop, Mingi stuttering an apology and Wooyoung flushing a deeper red. 

“Can I go first?” Wooyoung asks softly, “I messed up, and I wanted to apologize.”

“Sure, yeah, go ahead.” Mingi ducks his head, bracing for a second rejection, this time with an explanation for why Mingi was as un-dateable as he was.

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung starts, then pauses as if he’s gathering his thoughts. “I dunno how much San told you on the way here but like, basically, I’m a huge idiot who can’t come to terms with my feelings, and somehow I convinced myself that you only wanted me as a hookup, which made you think that _I_ didn’t want you for anything more than a hookup, when that’s actually the opposite of what I want. I like you, like _that,_ too. And I hope you can find it in you to give me a second chance even though I fucked up so bad the first time.”

Wait, what? Mingi doesn’t lift his head, but he can see the way Wooyoung shuffles his feet nervously. This is...not what he had been expecting. 

“So you’re, like, actually into me? As more than a hookup?” Mingi pinches his own arm harshly, then yelps when, _yep_ , he’s awake, and now his arm hurts. He finally looks up to meet Wooyoung’s eyes. “Why did you change your mind?”

Wooyoung scratches the back of his head, tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck. “I didn’t really change my mind. I liked you from the beginning. I just panicked in the moment and ended up making you think you were just a dick appointment to me because, honestly I don’t feel like this about people that much. Ever.”

Mingi bites back an embarrassing happy noise, stuffing his hands under his thighs so he won’t do something impulsive like grab Wooyoung and kiss him stupid. “Of course I’ll give you a second chance,” he says, “I really like you.”

Awkward silence settles over them. 

“So, what now?”

Mingi smiles. “Wanna start with grabbing that coffee?”


End file.
